


To Be Blunt

by pink_freud07



Series: Stoned and Boned [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Discussions of Eating?, Discussions of Needles, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, He's just a snob, It's Pretty Wholesome Though, M/M, Medical Student Hannibal, Mentions of Hand Feeding?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Stoner Will Graham, Trans Will Graham, Undergrad Student Will, Will and Hannibal say Trans Rights!, mentions of cockwarming, weed use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pink_freud07/pseuds/pink_freud07
Summary: “The idea I have is to order some pizza,” Will declares. “And if I can get you to come before it gets here, then you have to eat with me.”“Why would I agree to this?” Hannibal asks with a tone that holds a sense of detachment. “It’s not exactly as if sex is rare.”“I’ll sweeten the deal – or unsweeten it. If you take the bet, win or lose, I won’t make you watch me eat the Pop-Tarts I bought and hid in the cabinet.”Those lips twitch in a small smile as Hannibal says, “Fine.”
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Stoned and Boned [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975387
Comments: 24
Kudos: 131
Collections: NSFW Hannigram





	To Be Blunt

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to HigherMagic for [this tweet](https://twitter.com/HigherMagic/status/1295744837002592257) that motivated me to finally get this done!

There is the click of a lighter and the sounds of breathing and burning. Will pulls in a deep breath until it stings. The pipe at his lips is a small, gray, marble coffin – a gift. He’d laughed big and wide when his boyfriend gave it to him. They’ve always connected on a mutual appreciation for irony and Hannibal has made it known that he would prefer Will’s lungs not filled with smoke.  
  
Will moves his pipe from his lips and holds his breath just a little longer. When he breathes at last, it’s in a cloud that joins the small stream drifting up from the crown of the coffin. Will takes another hit. He encourages the flame with his inhales as he twirls a syringe with its capped needle between his fingers. When everything seems to have burned through for the moment, uncaps the needle to give the burned bits a good stir.  
  
“You shouldn’t do that,” Hannibal announces from his seat at his desk almost all the way across the room. Will can only see the side of his face as Hannibal scans his eyes across the pages of a truly massive textbook.   
  
“What else am I going to do with these things?” Will bemoans, capping the needle again and holding it out in front of him between his fingers like a pencil. “I have a whole bag of them.”  
  
He has needles of various lengths and gauges from when he first started HRT. His doctor for some reason wrote the prescription for his needles as a range, which resulted in Will returning home from the pharmacy with a bag with all sorts of needles and syringes he could never use. The bag of needles has moved with him from place to place while he tries to figure out what exactly to do with them. He’s considered trying to donate them to a needle exchange, but it has never been clear if they would take them.  
  
“Hey, you’re a med student,” Will remarks in realization. “Can you take them?”  
  
“I’m not taking your bag of needles,” Hannibal refuses as he blandly continues on with his reading. His tone suggests there would be no reason for him to bother to look away.  
  
“Why not?” Will asks, almost-incredulous, but mostly in interest. “They’re not opened.”  
  
“They’ve just been sitting in the back of your closet,” Hannibal observes. He has seen the big zip top bag and was there to experience the time when Will had to clean a lube spill off the outside, but it was the _outside_ and that’s the point of a bag anyway.   
  
“ _They’re not opened,_ ” Will insists. “They should still be sterile then, right?”  
  
“We’ll use them for practice,” Hannibal compromises as he looks at Will for a couple blinks of a brief break. The expression in his eyes is kindly admonishing as he says, “Just stop using them to stir.”  
  
Will hums in reluctant agreement but gives the capped needle another twirl between his fingers. He can see the turn of it still catching the corner of Hannibal’s attention. After all, Will being so willy-nilly with needles is part of want prompted their practices in the first place.   
  
In fact, the idea of practice and teach-ins spawned from a conversation they’d had about the differences between what’s _technically_ best medical practice and what’s been developed through necessity and in piecemeal within the community. After hearing Will tell his tales of bad medical choices made by accident, Hannibal became determined to become an expert – a feat not necessarily all that difficult, but appreciated – and now Will’s boyfriend is determined to teach whoever wants to learn.  
  
Will realizes he’s not sure how long he’s spent reminiscing when notices just how the blur in his senses has _truly_ set in. He knows when he’s like this time has no felt meaning. He’s had plenty of times when a few minutes pass and he thinks it’s been an hour.  
  
He feels himself sinking into the couch as a flush burns at his cheeks. He snuggles into the sweatshirt he’s wearing that’s a couple sizes too large. He lets his head lull to the side against a pillow as he watches Hannibal, so studious and _handsome_. Seeing Hannibal in profile is a display of an elegant nose, strong chin, and _lips_. At the sight, Will feels arousal and affection bloom in his chest and belly, spreading open his ribs like one might push away the doors to a pantry. He feels so open and empty.  
  
“Do you want to order pizza?” Will asks. He’s not sure again how much time has passed but his lips slur a bit on the words like they forgot how to talk in the silence.  
  
Hannibal looks over his shoulder at Will and Will can’t help but smile at the serious, proper look on his face. His boyfriend is so ridiculously _uptight_. While Will stripped off his pants almost as soon as they’d closed the front door and never replaced them, Hannibal still has his shirt buttoned nearly to the very top and tucked perfectly neat into his slacks.   
  
“You know I don’t,” Hannibal says plainly as he turns another page of his textbook.   
  
Will smiles softly as he looks at his boyfriend and he place his hand on his middle under his sweatshirt. He digs his fingers into the skin of his side to satisfy his want to touch and be touched. “What could I do to convince you to eat some?” Will muses.  
  
Hannibal looks at him as much as he can without turning his head. “Don’t,” he says.  
  
“What?” Will asks with a laugh.  
  
“Don’t get any ideas,” Hannibal says sternly.  
  
“You always say I should _embrace_ my ideas,” Will teases back.  
  
“I always say that you should embrace the ideas you have for your future,” Hannibal corrects. “That has nothing to do with what I eat,” Hannibal concludes.  
  
“It doesn’t?” Will asks. He smiles with a show of his teeth. “I think it does.”  
  
Hannibal turns another page of his textbook and diligently reads without pause. “I’m not going to gratify you by asking what you mean,” he informs Will.  
  
Will continues on anyway. They both know he can make do without Hannibal’s gratification. “The idea I have for my future is to order some pizza,” he declares as he moves to sit upright. “And if I can get you to come before it gets here, then you have to eat with me.”  
  
“Why would I agree to this?” Hannibal asks with a tone that holds a sense of detachment. “It’s not exactly as if sex is rare.”  
  
“So confident!” Will remarks with a good-humored huff as he stands up. His limbs feel heavy as he rises and his head is a little woozy, but in a nice way. He walks over to where Hannibal sits and puts a hand at the back of the chair. The words and charts in Hannibal’s textbook are a blur of nonsense – and would still be even if Will weren’t high. “You know your patients aren’t going to like it if you’re just lecturing them about what they eat all the time,” Will informs him. “Really, I’m just teaching you good bedside manner.”  
  
“You have a strange sense of proper instruction,” Hannibal observes. He looks up at Will with a curious tilt of his head and a purse of those lips Will has been admiring. “Should I be worried about your tutoring sessions? Your students seem very taken with you whenever we’re at dinner.”  
  
Will smiles and rolls his eyes for good measure. It seems an unfortunately frequent coincidence that whenever he and Hannibal actually go out to dinner, one of the students Will has met with for tutoring comes up to them to have a conversation. The most recent time included someone who was a little drunk and therefore didn’t pick up on Hannibal’s politely subtle dismissals.   
  
“They like that I take half-assed papers and make them _decent_ ,” Will says. He tucks Hannibal’s bangs to the side even though they were already perfect. “This is your exclusive privilege and I’m helping you to make the most of it.”  
  
“ _Your_ assessment of _the most of it_ ,” Hannibal points out.  
  
“We can logic in circles all night,” Will remarks, because they certainly have many times before. “I’ll sweeten the deal – or _unsweeten_ it. If you take the bet, win or lose, I won’t make you watch me eat the Pop-Tarts I bought and hid in the cabinet.”  
  
Those lips twitch in a small smile as Hannibal says, “Fine.”  
  
“You’re taking the deal?” Will confirms.  
  
“Yes,” Hannibal says with a sigh.  
  
Will leaves his boyfriend to his book again as he calls the pizza place right by campus. They tell him it will be 30 minutes, but he already knows. This particular place is kept in business by a campus with plenty of costumers. Will himself probably calls almost once per week.  
  
Once he hangs up, he sets his phone on the desk. He then grabs a piece of paper, slips it in the great gutter of Hannibal’s textbook, and shuts it closed in the blink of an eye. Having a timeline isn’t unfamiliar. They’ve fooled around before classes and when they’re at Will’s and not sure when everyone else will be home. Beverly’s never complained about it, but, even if Brian and Jimmy will have lover’s spats with regularity, they still prefer some things kept private.  
  
Since Will and Hannibal spend most days and nights now at Hannibal’s apartment, they have taken full and frequent advantage of the privacy and time. As such, they have become much more familiar with making it last and drawing out each and every sensation. There have been many times when this thirty minute window would be used just to make out. With the pleasant blur and buzz of a high, Will can easily content himself with soaking into Hannibal’s touch. Loose and languid, he lets himself meld into the shapes Hannibal makes with the expressive touch of his hands. While Will thinks of his boyfriend as a sculptor and happily turns to putty with the feel of caresses and squeezes, he knows Hannibal uses this intimacy for a different creative study. The stencils Hannibal makes with his touch are later used to painstakingly replicate the scene in pencil and paper.  
  
Will knows that portraits hold a special importance to Hannibal – _a subject’s mental process betrayed only by the expression on their face_ – and Will has seen some of the many drawings Hannibal has done. The way Hannibal portrayed the curve Will’s lips in one drawing reminded Will of time spent curled together on the couch at Will’s apartment, the one that sinks and sags until it almost seems to swallow you whole. The lines in pencil and shading made him think of the feel of Hannibal’s lips against his and the biting tease of crooked teeth. Will’s own teeth have shown up in other drawings. The sight of crisp, sharp edges made by scalpel-sharpened pencils evoked the feel of Hannibal’s skin and muscle underneath his teeth as he bites.  
  
They don’t have time now for a lengthy study, but Will can’t bring himself to deny them just a taste.  
  
“Move back,” Will instructs.  
  
Hannibal gives a slight lift of one brow but complies as he pushes away from the desk just enough to create space in his lap in a familiar temptation. Will can see the teasing invite in the smirk of Hannibal’s lips. Usually, when Will’s presented Hannibal’s lap, it’s a recipe for a long night kept full and teetering on _just enough_ pleasure.  
  
“If I win, I’m going to get you hard for me again,” Will promises as he straddles Hannibal’s lap and settles himself in the space made by thighs spread wide. The cool, soft fabric of slacks press back against the bare skin of Will’s legs and he feels hot and flustered underneath his sweatshirt.  
  
Will takes hold of Hannibal’s face between his two hands, his palms against a sharp jaw and his thumbs against even sharper cheek bones. The expression on Hannibal’s face has shifted from impassive to a look so absolutely _pleased_ with himself. His attention on Will is just as steady and quiet but with a tinge of a taunt. Of course, _he_ isn’t rushed.  
  
Will’s defiance flares at the sheer smugness. It feeds Will’s near constant desire to make Hannibal fall apart. What he feels isn’t _anger_ or _rage_ , but the passion that comes with recruiting for a rebellion. Will knows what he and Hannibal look like together. Will dresses in all-black. Last time they went out, he’d worn torn black shorts, a black button-up shirt, and silver lapel pins shaped like the antlers from a stag. Meanwhile, Hannibal dresses in suits complete with a vest and tie like he’s the son of CEO who’s set to inherit a company and might have a board meeting at any moment.  
  
Will’s long since moved past worrying too much about stares. After far too long of feeling shy and anxious, he’s chosen to feel proud and superior in those moments instead. He and Hannibal talk about it like a coping mechanism: why feel ashamed when he can feel _exceptional_. _It’s okay to be weird_ , Hannibal had said. Will now can’t imagine wishing to be any other way.  
  
When Will pulls their lips together, he’s so _hungry_. He feels it claw at his throat and grip at his belly. He wouldn’t take it slow even if he could. With his hands at Hannibal’s jaw, he pulls his boyfriend closer, presses their chests together, and grinds down into his lap. The grip of his hands is as eager as their lips. He won’t let Hannibal get away.  
  
Separated by two layers of boxers and a layer of slacks, Hannibal presses hard against where Will is becoming _desperately_ wet. Will grinds and rubs against the bulge of Hannibal confined in his pants and, with nowhere to go, Hannibal’s moan is gasped against Will’s mouth.  
  
“ _When_ I win,” Will whispers against Hannibal’s lips, “I’m going to sit on this cock and keep it nice and warm while we eat.” Will leans back just far enough to slide his hand down Hannibal’s chest and work his fingers against his boyfriend’s belt buckle. Hannibal’s breaths come as pants against his burning hot cheek. “You’re going to feed me,” Will tells him as he yanks a shirt untucked.  
  
With well-practiced fingers, he slips a button through its hole and unzips a zipper. He reaches under layers of clothes to take Hannibal’s cock in his hand and bring it out into open air. He puts his teeth to Hannibal’s neck as he strokes. His touch is dry and the drag is just the near side of harsh. He twists his hand around the head and the fluid that gathers on his palm helps to slick his slide back down again, but it’s not enough.  
  
As Will pulls away, his hole pulses and Hannibal moans, both in protest. He wants so badly to slip away his boxers and sink down deep and he knows Hannibal wants it to, but he struck a bargain and he will see it through.   
  
Will moves to the floor and positions himself back between Hannibal’s legs with those thighs bracketing around his chest instead. He parts the zipper and fabric wider to expose as much as he can without wasting time with actually taking off clothes. Will holds the length of Hannibal’s cock confidently in his hand again and licks from the base to the head. The salted taste at his tongue competes with the stale taste of weed and only makes him hunger and thirst for more.  
  
The weight of Hannibal’s cock on his tongue and the fill of it in his mouth back towards his throat makes him moan and out of the tiptop of his vision he can see the grip of Hannibal’s fists on his thighs. Will takes one of those hands and uncurls it, placing it open instead against his stretched cheek. He wiggles his fingers between the fingers of the other clenched fist until they finally relent and interlace with his.  
  
“I want you to feel everything,” Will instructs him when he pulls his mouth up and away. “You’re going to _indulge_.”  
  
To Will’s satisfaction, Hannibal not only keeps his hand on Will’s cheek without Will’s assistance but presses his fingers harder against it as Will takes him into his mouth again. With one hand free, Will presses the wet fabric of his boxers against his hole. He’s throbbing and soaking and his oversensitive clit begs for touch.  
  
Will rubs against his clit over the fabric and the harsh touch of it is equal parts pleasurable and shocking. It sends a jolt between his legs that travels up his throat as he moans around the cock in his mouth. He pulls away with a gasp for breath and a squeeze of Hannibal’s fingers between his. He has to reluctantly unweave their fingers to take hold of Hannibal’s cock and hold it steady as he catches his breath in between licks. Hannibal groans and shivers when Will exhales heavily against sensitive, spit-slick skin.  
  
“Tell me how you feel, Hannibal,” he coaxes.   
  
“ _Exquisite_ , clever boy,” Hannibal praises. From the strained rasp in his voice Will can hear his heavy swallow and the lick of a tongue against parched lips. When Will takes Hannibal in his mouth again, he feels a strong hand softly push back the sweaty curls at his forehead.   
  
His clit is stiff and needy as he slips his hand under his boxers. He spreads two fingers to press on either side of it and rub until he finds the exact spots that choke at his throat in pleasure. The occasional nudge of his clit caught between his fingers sends more shocks of desire and pleasure through his body. He has to get Hannibal to come and _soon_.  
  
He flexes his tongue as the cock twitches in his mouth. Hannibal is close. Will knows it. He presses his tongue against the vein to encourage the pulse and throb before he sinks to swallow as much as he can in long, hungry pulls. He is rewarded with a spill as Hannibal comes in his mouth and down his throat as he continues to swallow through it. He pulls away with a deep gasping breath as he presses harder and faster around and against the base of his clit. His hole clenches and flutters around nothing as Will pushes himself over the edge and tumbles headfirst into orgasm.   
  
The pant of both of their breaths resound loudly in a silent room. It’s a resonance and harmony interrupted by the shrill clamor of Will’s ringtone and the buzz of vibration against a wood desk. Will huffs a laugh from where he’s slumped with his cheek pressed against the inside of Hannibal’s thigh.  
  
“Right on time,” he says with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I'll maybe do a sequel. Feel free to let me know if that's something you'd be into.


End file.
